


can you hear me now?

by stilesinwonderland (itsabravenewworld)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1695941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsabravenewworld/pseuds/stilesinwonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An “i accidentally broke into your house/apartment because my friend lives next door to you and i was in the area, drunk, and i thought i was climbing into the right window and falling asleep on the right couch (and i did wonder when my friend got two cats but i didn’t question it) so now i’m hungover and shirtless in your living room so um hi howya doin” AU. </p><p>Or, five times Stiles falls asleep in Derek's apartment on accident and 1 time he does it on purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	can you hear me now?

V.

Scott McCall moves in next door to Derek’s apartment after it’s been vacated for nearly a year. Derek thinks he’s okay when he first meets him; the first thing he did when he was settled was go to say hi and apologize for the noise he’d created when moving in. Apparently, he’s a Pediatrician and a well-known one at that. Derek apologizes for never having heard of him, because he doesn’t have a kid. Scott only smiles and waves it off, says maybe they can get together some time for a beer. Derek is surprised by how likable the guy is, so he agrees with only a little bit of force.

 

He regrets his initial decision to like Scott just a week later, though, when someone next door in Scott’s room keeps repeatedly blasting their music at two in the morning. At first, it doesn’t bother Derek because he’s in the zone, typing up all of the paperwork he needs for his next meeting with PR, but eventually, as it gets later in the night, it starts giving Derek a headache. Derek checks the clock and huffs, but keeps working.

 

Eventually, the current song fades to an obscene rap song and Derek growls. He slams his laptop with a half-finished document closed and stands up.

 

He stalks over the the source of the noise and knocks on the door sharply. There’s a hurried, loud pounding of feet and Derek rolls his eyes before the door is swung open.

 

The person who answers isn’t Scott, and Derek is completely thrown for a loop.

 

The first thing he notices is that the guy is _attractive,_ with bambi eyes and moles spotting his face, and is the second thing he notices is that it’s definitely not Scott. He has frat-boy shorts on and a checkered shirt, and is looking at Derek like he’s grown a second head, his expression twisted in confusion.

 

“Uh, hey?” The guy says after a few seconds of Derek staring like an idiot. He looks tired and strung up at the same time, like he’s been forcibly staying awake for all of this time.

 

Derek realizes that he _has_ been staring, for way too long, and that realization brings him back to the present. The guy still looks confused, and Derek interprets it as he’s confused as to why someone would be knocking on the door at three in the morning. Derek scowls.  “Where’s Scott?” he asks.

 

The guy’s expression fades into something Derek can’t interpret, and he frowns. “He’s sleeping.”

 

Derek’s about to speak when someone shouts, “No I’m not _Stiles,_ because your music is fucking _loud,”_ and Derek is relieved when Scott shows up in the darkened doorway. His hair is in a disarray like he’d been pulling it in frustration all night. “And some of us have to sleep to deal with double shifts tomorrow.”

 

“That’s what I’m here about,” Derek tells Scott, and while Scott looks like he understands completely why he’s furious, Stiles, apparently, looks affronted.

 

“My music wasn’t _that_ loud!” Stiles defends, and Derek narrows his eyes.

 

“At any other time of day besides two in the morning, maybe not. But that’s not the case. I couldn’t think with your rap music blaring through the walls.”  

 

Scott sighs and looks thoroughly guilty for his friend, who still seems defensive. “I’m sorry about that, Derek. Sometimes he forgets it’s not just me he’s annoying.”

 

Stiles huffs and crosses his arms. When Scott shoulder-bumps him in the side three times and says “ _dude,”_ in a commanding voice, he deflates with a sigh and rubs a hand through his hair. “Sorry dude. I guess I didn’t realize it was that loud. I was working on some documents and lost track of time.”

 

Derek doesn’t know what to say to the sudden relent, so he shrugs. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

 

He walks back to his room and pretends that Stiles replying “Yes _sir,”_ in a sarcastic tone doesn’t affect him as much as it does. He goes to sleep right away, and the slightly quieter music catches his attention too much for him to fall asleep.

 

-

 

Stiles doesn’t come around after their confrontation, and Derek feels like he actually scared him off. He catches Scott after twelve hours of meetings and running around at work, and asks him about the boy’s absence. He figures out that Stiles is Scott’s  best friend (much to Derek’s relief) and doesn’t live with Scott, but had dropped by that night because he’s only a few blocks away and didn’t feel like walking the rest of the way home.

 

Derek feels a strange lifting in his chest and nods.

 

Scott apologizes again for the disturbance, and after reassuring him that it was fine, Derek retreats to his apartment. He eats, undresses, and steps into the shower with his head spinning. He returns to bed on autopilot and passes out with a leg hanging over the side of the bed.

 

-

 

A sharp cracking noise yanks Derek from sleep at some ungodly hour in the morning the next morning. Derek frantically blinks the blurriness out of his sight and sits up in his tangled sheets. The clock shows that it’s the normal time he wakes up at anyways, so Derek wonders if he'd shut his alarm off. He jumps out of bed, slips his sweatpants on as quickly as he can when something in his kitchen clatters to the floor and he dashes out of his room without a shirt on.

 

He curses himself for forgetting to grab something to defend himself and shouts, “hey!” at a shirtless figure hunched over in his living room, clutching their foot. With a shriek, the person straightens up and meets Derek’s gaze, looking like a fish out of water. Derek straightens out of his defensive stance and his mouth hangs open in shock. “Stiles?”

 

Stiles looks like he’s been bludgeoned over the head and the confusion in his eyes displays that breaking in wasn’t planned. He has lines up his cheek that signals he’d fallen asleep in a very uncomfortable place, and Derek assumes that must have been his own couch. His eyes are bloodshot and squinted until they’re almost closed. Stiles’s hair is flattened on one side, and he pulls at it, looking around the room.

 

“Fucking shit,” he chokes out, voice groggy and Derek finally realizes with startling clarity that Stiles is hungover. Painfully so, if his pinched expression is anything to go by. Stiles freezes when he notices that it’s Derek staring at him, and something in his expression changes and relaxes. “Uh, hey. This isn’t Scott’s place.”

 

Derek stares at him. “Well, no.”

 

Stiles thinks, and it looks like the process is hurting him. “And you’re shirtless. And buff.” Derek looks down at his own chest, back up at Stiles’s lithe frame. “And _I’m_ shirtless.”

 

“Why is that?” Derek asks. He feels like he should kick Stiles out, but the way he’s looking around the room, pitifully disoriented and perplexed, Derek can’t bring himself to do it. Derek isn’t angry, and he feels back that Stiles looks like he’s afraid Derek will rip his head off. He’s tired himself, so now he can only bring himself to stand in the doorframe and stare at the other boy.

 

Stiles groans, pressing a finger to his temple and pushes in. “It was really fucking hot.” He slumps over and grabs his t-shirt off of the back of Derek’s couch, and Derek tries not to think about the fact that Stiles’s bare chest was just laying against the cushions. “I was at the bar. Got really fucking drunk, and wanted to fall asleep on _Scott’s_ couch, not yours, because it was the middle of the night and it was cold outside. So I walked here and climbed in through the window. And I was wondering when Scott got a cat,” he adds, motioning to Derek’s cat lounging where Stiles had just been laying, “but I was so drunk I didn’t even care and I fell asleep here. And now I’m here, shirtless in your living room--”

 

“Stiles,” Derek interrupts finally, cutting off his tirade.

 

Stiles blinks, and he’s squinting his eyes at the light feeding in through the opened window behind Derek. He looks exhausted and in immense pain. He makes a hand gesture that looks like it requires too much energy for his state of being. Derek realizes something, suddenly and points to the window.

 

“You came in through the window?” Derek asks in disbelief. His side of the building doesn’t have scaffolds. “How is that possible?”

 

Stiles shrugs with a smirk. He’s seems to have finally figured out that Derek isn’t about to kick him out for sleeping on his couch without permission and his shoulders relax. “I’m nimble when I’m drunk.”

 

Derek doesn’t know how to respond to that; he hadn’t really been anticipating an answer at all. “I see.”

 

“Well, hey,” Stiles starts, rubs the back of his neck roughly and grins wryly. “Thanks for not like, beating the shit out of me when you woke up. I appreciate it.”

 

“Uh,” Derek responds eloquently. “Of course.”

 

After a tense silence, Stiles coughs and winces from his apparent headache.  He pets Derek’s cat’s head a couple of times. “This guy is very hospitable,” he tells Derek. “He only scratched me twice for trying to lay on top of him.” He shows Derek two scars on his arm and neck; the one on his neck looks like it had been bleeding but healed over. The thought of his cat scratching an unfamiliar drunken man nearly brings a grin to his face, but he forces it away.

 

“That’s nicer than usual,” he notes.

 

“Yeah. I mean I wouldn’t know, but I’m glad that’s the case because I wouldn’t have been able to fight him back.”

 

“ _Her,_ ” Derek corrects.

 

Stiles smiles. “Fight _her_ back, then.” He pets Claire’s head again. For a moment he stands there, looks around Derek’s home, and when Derek doesn’t say anything, he backs away towards the door. Derek assumes that he’ll find his way out on his own and slips into his bedroom to grab a shirt.

 

When he exits his room though, now fully clothed, Stiles is still there. “So,” he slaps his hands together. “What’s for breakfast, then?”

 

Derek stares at him, a hand still on the hem of his shirt. “Excuse me?”

 

Stiles huffs out a laugh. “Hey, I was kidding. Unless you actually make breakfast in the mornings, in which case I’m not. I’m totally not, because all Scott has are cans of peas and boxes of beef Ramen.”

 

“Peas are good for you,” Derek points out, even though he’s inching closer to the kitchen. He has to make breakfast for himself anyways, so he says, “what do you want?”

 

“Really?” Stiles perks up a bit, and Derek glares at him. “Just nothing with grease, please, if you value the condition of your carpet.”

 

“You had better not puke anywhere or I’ll shove the food down your _pants,”_ Derek threatens. Stiles gives him a genuine, tired smile back. Stiles is watching him put a small amount of butter in a pan (Derek knows for a fact that eggs are good for a hangover, not that he’d taken it into consideration) and with him that close, one hand on the counter to his right, he can smell the stale scent of liquor on his breath and a sweet tinge of sweat and cologne.

 

Stiles wrinkles his nose when the butter starts sizzling, permeating a strong smell and Derek elbows him away to crack three eggs into the pan. “Make yourself useful at least and put toast in the toaster.”

 

“Got it, chief,” Stiles groans when he gets up, but he puts four pieces of toast in and slumps back over the counter. “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that. I was joking around when I asked for breakfast.”

 

“Yet you’re here,” Derek says.

 

Stiles looks uncomfortable all of a sudden. “I can go if you want,” he says, and Derek shakes his head.

 

“I have work today so I need breakfast anyways.”

 

“Work on a _Sunday_?” Stiles asks, sitting down in one of Derek’s tall bar stools and shakes his head, horrified. “I would never survive.”

 

“I offered to work Sundays. I needed something to do.”

 

“Yeah?” Stiles hums. Derek pauses in using the spatula to keep the eggs from sticking to look over his shoulder. Stiles is considering him, his chin in his hands. Derek coughs and questions his sanity because he’s just allowed an almost complete stranger have breakfast with him and he can’t stop looking at the stranger’s thick eyelashes on top of it all. But then Stiles yawns obnoxiously and splays his arms out to his sides and Derek rolls his eyes.

 

When the eggs are finished, Derek nearly tosses the plate with two eggs on it towards Stiles and the clattering noise causes Stiles to flinch. “No, don’t worry about me or anything,” he mutters with no real heat and scarfs up the eggs almost immediately while Derek eats his own.

 

Derek takes note of the time a short while later and tosses his plate into the sink along with Stiles’s, and Stiles is standing in the doorway waiting to leave. “So I guess, see ya,” he says and gives him a small wave. “Thanks, by the way. I would probably be dead right now if it wasn’t for you.”

 

“Sure.”

  
“Bye,” Stiles waves before approaching Scott’s door and leaning against the doorbell, making it ring repeatedly until Derek can hear Scott scream in rage. He huffs out a chuckle and closes the door to go shower for work.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this came from tickatocka's post on tumblr, and I had to write it because that prompt spoke to me; to my /soul/. I just love the idea of college!Stiles falling asleep in random places. 
> 
> So the next chapters will all be from Stiles's point of view because I feel it's important to point out all of the ways Stiles manages to get himself in these positions. And, the next chapter should also be up relatively soon.
> 
> Title credit is for my friend Jenny who was tired and watching Verizon commercials. She's the best. 
> 
> Hey, leave comments and let me know what I'm doing right/wrong with this crazy writing thing! Also, you can get ahold of me on tumblr at obriensnipples!  
> Thanks!


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